by Renee Rose
Veck.
She gasped for breath, her back heaving on the mattress.
“Too hard,” he muttered, rubbing away the bright red bloom of color.
“Yes!” she agreed.
He rubbed her flesh vigorously to reduce any possibility of bruising. Despite his fury with Bayla, he would never cause her real harm, and the idea he’d gone too far sickened him.
Her buttocks and legs trembled beneath his palm, and her back still heaved with sobs, but they were slowing.
He picked up the heavy paddle and tossed it into his waste receptacle. With his superior strength, he never needed to wield such an implement. Hadn’t he made her cry with his hand alone?
But what she’d done warranted far more than a hand spanking. He selected a thin, reedy cane. It would bite her flesh and cause significant pain without going as thuddy or deep as the paddle.
Bayla hadn’t moved from her position, but she turned her face in his direction. He brought the cane down against his leg to measure its bite, and her slender shoulders hunched.
Standing at her side, he lined the cane up to cut across both her buttocks and let it swing. Bayla rose up on both her tiptoes, a choked gasp sounding in her throat. It left a neat white line across her reddened buttocks. He flicked the cane again and left a second stripe.
Bayla let out a sob.
He snapped the cane again and again. There was a satisfaction in leaving the stripes across her clenching bottom. As her distress mounted, his eased, and a sense of calm settled over him.
He struck again. Bayla cried out. He checked his cuff. Forty percent aroused. It had been zero when he used the paddle. There was something about the measured pain that excited her. He continued caning her, striping down her buttocks to her upper thighs.
“Reach back and pull open your ass cheeks,” he commanded.
Her hands crawled back and parted her plump, punished cheeks for him.
He lowered his wrist and angled the cane on the vertical. With far less power, he struck her between her buttocks, along the line of the crack, punishing her tender, clenching bottom hole.
She shrieked, her body popping off the bed. “No, please, Master!” She threw herself at the floor by his feet, wrapping her arms around his ankles. Then, probably remembering his dictate to remain in position, she surged back up and laid over the sleepdisk, her beautiful body trembling.
Something about her subservience—the desperate throwing herself at his feet—brought a surge of satisfaction. Of dominance and power. His cock thickened, and punishing became more of a pleasure than the desperate need to rebalance the scales.
“One more round for leaving position.”
She wept into the covers.
He gave her four more stripes crisscrossing across the neat, even row he’d left before. “Pull your cheeks apart.”
Despite her obvious misery, she remained in complete submission, reaching back to pull open her buttocks. He delivered one last spank to her crack and pulled her floating cage over to them, lowering it to the level of the sleepdisk.
“In your cage, now.”
She crawled right in and stayed on her knees, her chest pressed to the mat, her hands reaching back to cover her welted bottom.
It was an adorable sight, one that eased his remaining anger. He rather enjoyed seeing her as a punished and sorry girl.
She’d made a mistake. One with terrible repercussions for him and his species. But she’d been punished and was sorry. He’d made many mistakes, too. He should have realized a human might develop an attachment to the baby she grew in her body. He’d been an idiot not to consider it.
He leaned his face against the cage. “You should have told me you didn’t want the young taken from you. I would have let you raise it, if that was your desire.”
Bayla drew in a great shuddering breath, her eyes red, cheeks wet with tears. “I didn’t know,” she wailed. “I was s-so stupid!”
“No, not stupid,” he said firmly. “Never that. You were afraid. I should have asked more questions.”
“I w-won’t do it again. I promise. Can you culture another embryo?”
The brick returned to his solar plexus. “I’m going to try right now.” Heaviness descended into his whole being.
He reached a hand through the bars of her cage and brushed the tears from her face. “Go to sleep, Bayla.”
Chapter Eight
Bayla received punishment in every dream that night. Daneth whipped her, spanked her, paddled her, flogged her naked body again and again and, while she wept and mourned his anger, she never wanted it to stop. She deserved his punishment.
She needed it.
Only from him. In one dream, Prince Zander had picked up a leather strap and stalked to where she hung, suspended naked from the ceiling by her wrists.
She’d been terrified, but then Daneth had come and taken the strap from him.
She’s mine, he’d said.
Yes, she’d wept. Had opened her legs wide for him to whip her pussy.
She woke to an orgasm, though she hadn’t been touching herself. Her ass still hurt, but she loved the pain. She reached back to squeeze her cheeks, reactivating it.
The chamber was quiet—no sign of Daneth. She’d heard him come in long after she fell asleep, and then leave again before dawn.
She tested the door of the cage. Open. Daneth never locked her in. She rather loved that about him. He kept a cage for her but didn’t lock it. She couldn’t begin to understand why she adored her cage so much. Probably because it was hers. She’d never had her own belongings before, especially not plush, luxurious things like the cage and its furnishings.
She crawled out and padded to the washroom. After using the facilities and cleaning in the washtube, she emerged and dressed.
She didn’t want to leave the chamber for breakfast. Daneth hadn’t forbidden her to leave, yet she felt she ought to be confined. Or maybe she didn’t want to see what the Zandians in the pod thought of her now. Assuming they all knew.
The sound of something smashing made her jump. It had come from Daneth’s lab. She hit the panel that opened door to his lab and stopped short when she saw Daneth—her beautiful scientist—destroying his lab. Shattered fragments of equipment lay scattered across the floor. Daneth picked up a heavy instrument and flung it against a wall. When it didn’t completely shatter, he picked it up again and repeated the action until nothing but small shards remained.
“Daneth,” she whispered.
His head jerked up, and the misery she saw in his eyes made her heart stop.
“It-it didn’t work?” she forced the words out of her numb lips.
He shook his head. “No more eggs. The last viable one died in you.”
A sob choked her throat, but she held it back. Daneth needed her to be strong now. Weeping for what she’d done wouldn’t help anything. “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “You’ll have half-breeds. Lamira’s baby. You could breed me for more.”
He stared at her, his expression haunted. “You think I’d ever let another male near you for breeding?”
She drew back. “Not another male. With you.”
His lips curled in disbelief. Me? My genes are not worth breeding. I’m not a warrior. I’m nothing. An old scientist who never accomplished anything for his species.
“That’s not true.”
She had to shake him out of this desperation. Punishing her last night had soothed him—she’d seen the change in him, had loved it. If only she could get him to do it again, now. Change his focus, remind him of his power and virility.
She pulled off her clothing and cupped her own breasts. “This body was made for breeding, Master.”
A tic sprang in Daneth’s temple.
“Was made for your cock.”
His nostrils flared.
She slid one hand down her belly to curl her fingers between her legs. “This pussy needs you. Claiming it. Punishing. Buried deep inside.”
“Veck,” he cursed, s
talking toward her. “What did I tell you about touching yourself?” Anger flashed in his eyes.
It went far beyond her breaking the rule about touching herself, but she didn’t mind having it directed at her. Better her than his precious equipment. She could handle her male. How she knew that, she wasn’t sure, but she did.
“You said I’d be punished.” She dared him with her words, invited his chastisement. They needed this now.
He closed the distance between them in a few short steps, tossed her over his shoulder, and clapped her on the ass with his open palm. He continued spanking her all the way to his room, but when he set her down, the burn of his focus had the flames of desire behind it.
She cupped her mons again, goading him, taunting him. In a flash, she was on her back on the sleepdisk. He climbed over her and stretched her arms taut overhead, fastening her wrists to a ring on his headboard.
She spread her legs, bending her knees to give him the full view of her soaked pussy.
“Veck,” he swore angrily, shoving her knees wider, pressing them flat against the bed. “You think to tease me with that pussy? Me? Your master? I own this pussy.” He freed his cock from his leggings and gave his thick length a stroke. “I own you, Bayla.”
She arched her pelvis, thrusting her tits toward the ceiling, writhing for his touch, no matter how roughly it came.
And it came rough. It came with a force that knocked her breath away. Daneth shoved into her without preparation—not that she needed it. Her pussy ached for him. Dripped for him. She needed him inside to complete her very essence. And when he took her with such force, it only felt right.
After what she’d done. After she’d deprived him of his life’s work. A Zandian child. Her pussy.
Well she hadn’t denied him her pussy, but she’d certainly teased and tempted him with it. Now, it was finally his. He’d found home, as far as she was concerned.
He surged over her, riding her like a she was a wild beast that required taming.
“Bad girl,” he chanted, slapping her breast before plunging in and out of her again. He repeated the pattern: in-out-in-out-slap. Her other breast got it.
Her guttural moan screamed sex. Shouted wanton desire. Lust. Need. “Punish me, Master.”
He bared his teeth, driving into her with such force he would’ve slammed her into the headboard if he hadn’t braced her shoulder with one arm. “You like to get vecked by me?” he growled. “Hard? Like this?”
It didn’t seem right to say yes because it felt too much like punishment, so, instead, she said, “I need it, Master.”
His eyes glinted with satisfaction. “You do, don’t you?” He continued to slam into her so deep. So hard. So good.
She couldn’t help the noises he knocked out of her with each brutal stroke. Lurid sexual cries. Wild beast sounds.
“Bad, bad girl.” He slammed in and out. Slapped her breast then slapped her face. Not hard. Not nearly as hard as he’d slapped her breast. But in the most satisfying way possible.
Her pussy turned to liquid heat.
“Oh veck, Bayla,” he rasped. The sound of her name on his lips nearly made her weep. It sounded so intimate, so personal after he’d been calling her bad girl. She knew deep in her soul that she and she alone had been responsible for this loss of control in him. This animalistic response his body had to hers. No—his being had to hers.
As broken as they were, as she’d made them, they belonged together, magnetized by more than fate. By their very essence.
“Bayla.” His voice cracked as if he might be the one to weep this time. He pointed at her. “Don’t you dare come. You do not have my permission to come. You’re a bad girl.”
“Yes,” she agreed, though his dominance put her so close to the edge it was painful. He pounded deep, two, three more times, then buried his dick to the hilt and came.
Though she tried to lie still, to simply be a receptacle with no pleasure of her own, her body recognized his release and instantly climaxed, her internal muscles squeezing his cock, pulling his rainbow essence up into her womb.
Daneth groaned like his finish pained him. He pulled out, pulled back, out of breath. With one quick movement, he flipped her to her belly. The position of her arms pained her—they were pulled up too high.
“Master, please—my arms.”
He must have recognized her dilemma because he instantly commanded her cuffs release. “Give me your hands.”
She obeyed and he clipped her cuffs together at the small of her back. Then he shoved a bolster pillow under her hips, lifting her ass.
She thought he might spank her again, but he parted her cheeks and dropped a blob of slippery lubricant between her cheeks.
“Did you think if you offered me your pussy, your ass would be safe from me?”
Unsure if he wanted a real answer to that question, she kept her mouth shut.
“No, I’m going to veck this little ass until every part of you knows I’ve been there. That I own this ass.” He slapped her thighs open. “And this naughty pussy.” He delivered a series of quick spanks to her swollen, still-pulsing pussy.
She heard the smack of him lubricating his cock. How he managed to get it hard again so quickly, she couldn’t imagine.
He pushed both her cheeks wide, and the head of his cock nudged her back entrance. A shiver of fear and excitement ran through her. “Afraid of me, Bayla?” His voice was low and wicked, as if he savored such a thing.
“A-a little.” She was, but only in a make-believe way. Daneth would never truly harm her body. He would never damage her. Hadn’t he unclipped her wrists when she whined?
“This is how you learn surrender,” he growled, breaching her tight entrance.
She willed her muscles to relax, to accept his full malehood, his dominance.
He filled her too full with his cock, so thick and long. He stretched her and used her, pulling at the top of her pelvis to angle it up, exactly the way he wanted it. He gripped her bound wrists and used them for leverage.
She moaned and yowled like an animal in heat. “Take me, take my ass,” she babbled, pleading for what, she didn’t know. “I’m your bad girl. I’ve been such a bad girl.”
“Yes,” he snarled, but she noticed his movements were far more careful this time. He didn’t take her roughly, the way he had when she’d been on her back. Though he filled her beyond what was comfortable, he kept his strokes even and straight, didn’t shove or jerk erratically.
He lowered his body over hers, one hand wriggling under her pelvis to cup her mons. Two of his fingers plunged into her wet heat. “You wish I was here instead, don’t you?” His gravelly voice was right at her ear.
“Y-yes. No. I-I don’t know.”
He continued to pound her ass. “You don’t know?” The heel of his hand ground into her clit as he pushed a third finger inside her. “You know you deserve my cock in your ass, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she gasped, stars already exploding in her vision. Daneth owned her body completely. If he’d turned her inside out, he couldn’t have owned her more. He owned her ass, her pussy, her clit, her ears. He owned her mind. Her heart.
Yes, Daneth had truly put her heart in chains the day he’d collared her.
“I already came once. Do you know what that means?”
“No,” she gasped, her body vibrating—trembling with the oncoming climax.
“It means I can veck your ass all. Planet. Rotation.” He thrust extra deep on the last words and undulated the hand cupping her mons.
She went off like a turbo blaster, pussy squeezing his fingers in waves, ass still stretched wide open. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, maybe not truthfully. Sorry she had disobeyed or disappointed, not sorry for the most intense orgasm of her life. Not sorry for the climax still rippling through her tender body.
Daneth bit her neck and continued working her pussy and pumping into her ass until his legs shook and he buried deep and stayed. When his cock stopped pulsing, he covered h
er body with his, draping her with his warmth. “Intoxicating human,” he groaned. “How can you have such a hold on me? I can’t be near you without losing all control.”
~.~
Daneth managed to separate his body from Bayla’s, which seemed a far more difficult task than it should be. It was as if their bodies had melded together, becoming not two separate beings, but a third unrecognizable beast.
He hadn’t meant to veck her so brutally. Hadn’t meant to veck her at all. In fact, he hadn’t wanted to see her again. Not until he’d controlled his temper. Not until he’d forgiven her.
Yet she’d made it unavoidable. She’d begged for it. Tempting him with that body. Yielding to him with such grace. She only made him think he was in control. But in actuality, she’d been controlling him from the very beginning, hadn’t she?
He may be the one holding the whip, but she chose to take her whippings. She bent so easily, she’d never break. And in the end...in the end, maybe he’d been broken.
He’d lost everything. The hopes and dreams of a Zandian restart. The project he’d nursed for so many solar cycles. The last viable Zandian egg.
Not just that. He’d lost his mind. Probably his very soul, because he didn’t know who he became when he was with Bayla.
And he hadn’t forgiven her. The sex took the edge off his anger, but the underlying resentment was still there. The simmering anger at what she’d done. The sense of betrayal.
He needed to get away from her. He needed some space to find his head again. To decide what to do with the slave who was no longer of use to him.
Except that lie made his chest implode. She may not be of scientific use, but he could certainly think of a great many uses for her. Most of them involved her on her back with her legs spread. His mouth sucking on one of those pouty nipples until she got wet. Or sucking on her core, tasting her tangy essence while she writhed and wriggled in his grasp.
But he wanted to be cruel to her, too. Wanted to take a leather strap to her ass every planet rotation, keep her sore and sorry, surrendered. And that wasn’t fair. He might actually hurt her, like he almost had the night before.
