by Loki Renard
“The only time you behave yourself is when you’ve been freshly spanked,” he said. “Though it’s starting to wear off quicker and quicker. What are we going to do about that, you think? Is it because you’re still not getting what you need? Is it because you need more than a butt warming?”
Instead of replying with any kind of verbal riposte, Aster kicked out at him, spreading her thighs just as his hand swung down, catching her not on her bottom but between her thighs.
Her high-pitched squeal was nearly enough to crack the wine glasses on the cabinet across from their beds. “That was my—”
“I know what that was,” he said, swatting her again in precisely the same place. He was spanking her over her panties, but catching her pussy with each and every slap.
She looked over her shoulder, shocked. “What do you— Ow! Eee! Owen!”
He paused for a moment and glowered down at her. “Behave yourself, Aster, or I’ll pull these panties down and spank your pussy bare.”
Aster was beyond shocked, but for reasons she couldn’t explain she still had not closed her legs. It turned out that being spanked on her pussy wasn’t painful so much as it was stimulating. The heat from all the previous punishments had sunk into her flesh and left her overly excited and now with his fingers slapping against her lower lips she actually got some pleasure from it.
Biting her lower lip, Aster faced the bed again, clenching her lower muscles and pressing her clit against the mattress. It wasn’t much in the way of friction, but it was enough to amplify the stolen pleasure. So much for punishment.
“I know what you’re doing,” Owen growled. “Cut it out.”
“If you’re going to touch me there you can’t complain when I react,” she shot back over her shoulder.
“You’re a bad girl,” he said, smacking her bottom.
“You’re a bad man,” she shot back. “And you’re a pussy.”
“I’m a pussy, huh?” Owen pinned her down, one hand on the small of her back, the other at her panties. He pulled them down her thighs in one smooth motion, tossed them across the room then brought his hand back between her legs, swatting her now obviously wet pussy with swift little slaps which left her gasping. His rough, masculine fingers caught her puffy lower lips over and over again, stimulating her to the point where she ground quite shamelessly against his digits, taking every bit of hot pleasure from the pain. He would not win. He would not make her back down; she would take every bit of his discipline eagerly.
“Yes,” she gasped. “You’re a complete fucking pussy.”
“Is that so?”
One hand had moved to the back of her neck. He was holding her against the bed with her cheek pressed against the hotel comforter, her hair covering her face as she lifted her hips and wiggled her bottom back and forth defiantly waiting for the next swat.
It didn’t come. Instead of landing against her pussy, Owen’s fingers slid deep inside her, two fingers stretching her tight channel in a sudden intrusion that left her gasping at a higher pitch. He withdrew them almost all the way, and then sank them back inside her, fingering her with hard, fast strokes. Aster didn’t know if he was trying to fuck her or punish her and she didn’t care. She wailed her pleasure to the ceiling and kept her hips high, her hot red cheeks squirming as she took his thrusting.
“You’re a spoiled little brat,” he said, leaning over her body, his lips just inches from hers, his powerful body pressed against her as he plundered her cunt with his fingers. “And your smart mouth writes checks your pussy is going to cash.”
They were well past the point of professionalism now. Now he wasn’t just her bodyguard, he was her lover, the man whose hand was being soaked with her juices. When he let his thumb brush against her clit she screamed so loudly he moved his hand from the back of her neck and clapped it over her mouth.
“Shh, brat,” he growled in her ear. “The whole hotel doesn’t need to know your tight little cunt is being taken.”
Her pussy quivered around his fingers in response to his words. There was something rough and primal in his voice, the arrogance and confidence which had so rubbed her the wrong way was now making her melt around his thick digits.
Owen continued to plunder her pussy while she writhed and bucked in his grasp, her clit and her slit taking the brunt of the punishment as he alternately spanked and fingered her. Aster had never been treated in such a purely carnal manner; she had never had her body bent to a man’s sway this way before. It was all she could do to keep her hips rising as Owen strummed her clit then swatted the entrance of her pussy before driving his thick fingers back inside over and over in a routine which left her completely devoid of any thought besides the drive to be fucked.
“More...” she moaned. “More...”
Surely he would take her. Surely he would push those boxers down and plunge his cock inside her. She needed it more than she’d needed anything in her life, but he was denying her it. Her pussy was his plaything as he swatted and teased and thrust until her orgasm burst forth and the walls of her cunt clenched tight around his fingers and she writhed in place, her moans still muffled by the strong hand over her mouth.
He moved his palm as her peak receded, leaving her panting softly against the bed. Then he leaned down and murmured a question in her ear.
“Now can you sleep?”
Physically, emotionally and sexually exhausted, Aster was asleep before he even finished asking the question.
Chapter Six
The next day started early and rushed, so much so Aster didn’t have time to properly process what had happened between her and Owen the night before. All she really knew was that her pussy felt sensitive and slightly raw from having been so thoroughly taken. As she showered she let the water run gently over her crotch, tenderly washing herself while her mind drifted.
BAM! BAM! BAM! “Hurry up, Aster!”
Owen’s voice boomed through the door, jolting her out of her daydream. She turned off the water and stuck her head out of the shower. “I’m going as fast as I can!”
“Go faster!”
There was barely enough time to wash her panties then dry them with the hair dryer. Owen was banging on the door again before she was even halfway ready. Aster looked in the mirror and cursed the fact that she’d forgotten to bring any makeup with her. This was the problem with being impulsive. It left you without any concealer and a pimple sprouting right beside your nose. It was those fish and chips, she was sure of it.
“Hurry up, Aster! We need to be there in five minutes!”
She rolled her eyes in the poorly lit mirror. The helicopter was a private charter. It could wait. Hell, it had made her wait for a whole day almost. The pilot could chill out for a bit while she attempted to make herself presentable.
Truth was, she wanted to look good for Owen. What had happened between them had left her off-kilter, but eager to experience more. As she dried herself she could feel tingling between her thighs, a new need sparking with the brushing of the towel.
“Aster!” Owen knocked again. “Am I going to have to come in there and get you?”
“It’s locked,” she called out. “And I’ll just be a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute. Out. NOW.”
He wasn’t shouting, but he had raised his voice enough to boom through the door. Aster was not impressed. He might have been in the military once, but she wasn’t some rookie to be ordered around. She continued to take her time, glad for the fact that she was making him grumpier and more annoyed with every second she was in there. It was about time he knew what it felt like to be helpless and frustrated.
She didn’t get much more in the way of satisfaction, however, because Owen didn’t ask her again. The hotel room went completely silent. Five minutes later, Aster emerged from the bathroom to find Owen sitting on his bed, tapping his fingers impatiently on his thigh.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“You’ll be ready in a second. Come here.”
“You don’t ignore me, young lady. Come here.”
Aster’s feet felt as though they were rooted to the floor. There was no way in hell she was going to go there. Going there meant she would be putting herself in imminent danger of having her ass spanked. Again.
“Aster...” he said her name in those dark, serious tones.
“I had lady things to attend to,” she burst out. “I couldn’t have come out if I wanted to. God! Have a little respect for my privacy!”
That stopped him in his metaphorical tracks. He tilted his head to the side. “Is that true?”
“Yeah it’s true,” she said, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Now let’s go. We have a helicopter to catch.”
Owen agreed. As they made their way out of the hotel room and down to reception to check out, it was all Aster could do to hide her smile. She’d gotten away with something just by invoking the specter of menstruation. Like any typical male, Owen wasn’t going to mess with that. Talk about a get out of jail free card.
They headed for the airport again, this time for a private helicopter charter piloted by a cheerful man with a full beard and an All Blacks tee shirt. He didn’t look like much of a pilot, but he did have the keys to the helicopter so there was that.
“Load up,” he said. “Take whatever seat you like, aside from mine. Ha ha!”
Owen tapped Aster on the shoulder as she made to board. “I know you didn’t have any lady things to deal with,” he murmured in her ear. “I just needed for us to leave on time. When we get to Te Anau, your pants are coming down, young lady.”
Aster turned and scowled at him. “After what you did last night, I don’t think you should be talking to me that way. If I called my father he would have your head. He might be okay with you... doing some things, but not with... the rest of it.”
“Get in the helicopter,” Owen said, swatting her bottom.
“I’m just saying,” she said as she got in. “You could be in real trouble now.”
“Mmm hmm.”
The conversation died as the pilot got into his seat and began preparing for takeoff. The sound of the helicopter and the general excitement of flying was enough to distract both Aster and Owen from their little squabble and redirect their attention to the ground, which was receding sharply.
In a short while they were high above some of the most breathtaking scenery Aster had ever seen in her life. The cultivated fields and paddocks gave way to dense forest and then fiords, rivulets of blue water tracing between a myriad of islands and peninsulas.
Completely stunned by the beauty beneath her, Aster was glad that she had decided to come. So far the trip had been ill-fated, but with the New Zealand wilds passing beneath her it was all worthwhile. This was the world, as she had never seen it before, completely untouched.
“The forests below are ancient,” the pilot said, speaking through the headphones perched atop their heads. “Older than almost any forests in the world thanks to being separated from the giant continents way back when.”
Way back when was an understatement. According to Aster’s guidebook, they dated back eighty million years. This was land barely touched by humans. Some parts of the fiords were still unexplored. Who knew what lurked in the dark forests below the thick canopy?
A gust of wind caught the chopper, lifting them up for a quick second. Aster let out a little squeak of fear.
“Nothing to worry about,” the pilot said. His words didn’t much reassure her, but Owen’s hand on her knee did. She glanced across at him, saw him sitting there all steady and calm and felt her tension draining away.
“We get all sorts out here,” the pilot added. “Squalls. Gusts. Gales. Nothing to worry about, mate— oh, shit!”
A screeching sound that sounded like a cross between the tearing of a foil wrapper and the end of the world interrupted the pilot’s assurances that all was well. A second later, the helicopter started to spin rapidly. Aster screamed for a second, then stopped as the nausea and the terror overwhelmed her to the point of paralysis.
The chopper sank what felt like a thousand feet in an instant, descending toward the forest with a typhoon-like quickness that disoriented as much as it terrified.
The lower runners of the helicopter caught the top of a tree and the whole thing tipped sideways. Aster was thrown clear into the leafy embrace of ancient forest. She tumbled through several dozen branches, which gave way to her hurtling form, slowing her speed until she hit several inches of leaf mold with a teeth-rattling thud.
She could still hear metal tearing through trees, though it was somewhat distant now. The husk of the helicopter was carving its own path, ripping across virgin forest with a cacophonous daemon shriek that deafened Aster even at a distance.
When the sound stopped she found herself sitting on the ground. Just sitting, as though she had been placed there by some sick omnipotent force. The whole episode had lasted less than sixty seconds. Aster had never realized just how fast things could go wrong on an aircraft. There had been no time to think, much less do anything about it. There was no opportunity to assume the crash position or put on a parachute and leap to safety, if such a thing had been available. One minute you were sightseeing, the next minute you were falling out of the sky.
Was it really possible to survive such a thing? Aster didn’t think so.
Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she was already dead. Maybe heaven was a forest and maybe it was an ache in every part of your body. If it was heaven, she was disappointed. It was a lot emptier than she’d thought it would be and it smelled a lot more like mud. She put her fingers to the ground and found that it seemed just like dirt in any other place. She was alive. Against all odds, she was alive.
BOOM! BOOOOOOMMM! BOOOOM!
She turned her head and saw a flare of fire leap high then burn out almost as quickly as it had sprung up. As the echo of the explosion died away Aster was left in a silence more deafening than any she’d ever experienced. The forest was perfectly still. Not a thing moved. Not an insect. Not a leaf. She rose to her feet unsteadily, testing her limbs. They all seemed to work, though she was bruised and her shirt was torn where she’d gone cartwheeling through the trees.
“Owen?” Her voice was soft and tremulous as she spoke to the silence.
There was no reply. She was alone in the middle of an archipelago of ancient bush. Dazed and confused, she promptly stumbled into a tree and slid back down to the ground. Her head was ringing and she was deaf from the sound of metal tearing like tissue paper just inches from her body.
Too stunned to scream or to cry or to register any emotion, she rose to her feet again. Again she stumbled and fell. Her legs were simply too weak and numb to carry her. This time she stayed down for what could have been five minutes or five hours. There was no way to tell in that place.
Slowly, Aster realized that she was probably going to die there. She might have survived the fall, but the terrain they were over was inhospitable and largely inaccessible. Who would ever find them there? Night fell and still she lay there, unable to gather the strength to move, unsure of where she would go even if she could.
After a while, things began to happen. There were little lights, perhaps they were pinpricks of stars through the canopy, or maybe they were from fireflies. They might not even have been real. She thought she saw visions of the Los Angeles skyline, and then the Montana night and then a vision of her father, and of Owen. She could almost hear Owen’s voice calling for her.
Aster....
ASTER!
“Aster?”
Something was coming through the trees. Something bright, a light bolder and more beautiful than any she had seen before. This was it. She was dying, she was certain of it. Unable to move toward the light, Aster lay and waited for it to consume her.
“Aster!” The light spo
ke her name again. It sounded more like Owen than ever, but she knew that wasn’t possible. Owen had been in the helicopter, the one that had exploded.
“I’m ready to go,” she said. “Take me.”
“Aster, it’s me.” The light moved to the side a bit and she saw Owen standing next to it. He didn’t look as if he was dead. He looked very dirty, but very alive, his face smeared with oil and dirt and greenery. He was on his knees now, checking her from her fingers to her toes. “How the hell did you survive that?”
“I just fell,” she said. “How did you survive it?”
“I rode the wreckage down. The trees slowed it down a lot. You must have... goddammit Aster, you fell out of the chopper.”
“Yeah,” she said numbly. His hands were still roaming her body, checking for injuries.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m not hurt. Not really.”
“You could have some kind of internal injury,” he said, “but it doesn’t look like it. Thank God. I can’t believe you survived that!”
He held her close to his chest, cradling her in his lap. His relief and joy at finding her was obvious, but for some reason Aster couldn’t muster any feeling at all. She didn’t know if she was hot or cold, happy or sad. She didn’t have any aches or pains; she didn’t feel the scratches on her arms or the bruises on her thighs. Her body had shut down pretty much every function beside the bare minimum.
“I guess it would have looked bad for you if I died,” she quipped through dry, cracked lips.
“Really?” He let out a dry, pained laugh. “You’re going to be a smart ass now? You came about as close to death as anyone can and you’re still a brat?”
“I guess,” she mumbled.
“Well don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got you and I’m going to get us both out of here.”
“Uh huh.” His words failed to reassure her, but his body served to anchor her to the world. He was warm and he was real and he was there. She could hear his heart beating in his chest, a solid sound of humanity there in the utterly wild forest.
* * *
